The Dark Knight Returns
by Zkyrus
Summary: Two years have passed since Bane and Talia Al Ghul tried to destroy Gotham City. Two Years in which Gotham became a city that does not need the Batman any more. But when a new, terrible threat appears, the Vigilante is needed more than ever...
1. Prologue

I am truly sorry. I just now realized the broken formatting made it unable to read this first chapter. I am sorry for the inconvenience and hope you can read this now! :) Big thanks to Highlander348 for reviewing, I wouldn't have noticed this lol  
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The sound of rain pouring down, creating some kind of a strange, repetitive rhythm as the raindrops hit the flat metal roof, was almost hypnotizing. The little guardhouse was next to the entry to the parking lot in front of the modern, kind of futuristically stylic building that belonged to Carlisle Biochemicals, with its main complex and the adjacent wings. It was not the biggest building, but new, not more than two years old.

Built after Bane.

In the little guardhouse, the security guard sat behind his desk on his out-fashioned chair, which looked like it had once been state of the art - but that must have been somewhere in the 80s.

The guard was a grey-haired man, with glasses as outdated as his chair, with blue eyes behind that had a wise, experienced look to it. The man wasn't the youngest any more, but he had worked for several companies as a security guard. He knew that this was his last job before retirement.

He sighed, leaning backwards in his chair, which creaked under his weight. Not only did he gain the age over the years - his wife kept telling him he should exercise. But the guardsman was not the kind of guy for gyms. Not anymore.

He found his joy for the evening in the radio in front of him, standing on the table, emanating the voice of a football game presenter.

That, and the donuts. The donuts next to the radio, in an open paper box. Two of them. His wife had told him to eat less of these donuts, but Earnie's Donut Shop, which was right around the corner from his guardhouse, mostly won over that diet recommendation.

The guard looked up for a second, into the dark, outside the guardhouse's window. No one at the gate for him to let in. Of course not. He wasn't expecting anyone. Who would go out in that thunderstorm that was raging out there? Why get drenched in mere seconds by the downpour? No, that was not the weather, nor the time - almost midnight - for someone to show up at the gate.

However, that was just what happened.

He heard a car honking, and through the window and the rain running down the glass on the outside, he could see the shape of a car. He could see the headlights.

With a displeased groan, the man got up from his chair, walked around the table to the door of the tiny guardhouse.

"Scientists.", he muttered, "First they lose their shit and then they can't wait till tomorrow to go get it."

That was not the first time that had happened. From time to time, the guard had to let one of the scientists in so they could get whatever it is they had left in the building.

Just that this time… it wasn't.

Someone showed up from the rain-blurred view on the outside of the window. The guardsman saw a woman, completely drenched, her wet hair hanging down dripping. She knocked against the glass.

She had crimson hair, a kind of red that surely was the work of a hairstylist rather than mother nature. Her eyes were light green, a strong color that seemed to emanate light, almost glowing green. Her dark coat didn't even have a hood, and it's cloth clearly wasn't waterproof.

Poor thing. The guardsman opened the door.

"What are you doing out there in that storm?"

She entered, slipped through the halfway open door in the guardhouse.

The guard arched an eyebrow.

"Oh, and how are you, by the way? I haven't seen you here before, are you one of the students? Let me guess… Doctor Grayson. He sent you here instead of moving his old bones here himself. So, what's he lost this time?"

The woman smiled, brushing her hair out of her face. She had a face that was almost dainty to him. Pretty thing. The guard tried to guess her age. Maybe early twenties. Or mid twenties. But nothing above that.

"Oh, I am Lilian. But call me Lil."

He nodded.

"Lil it is. So, Lil. Is that your truck?"

She turned her head, looking out if the window, on which the rain ran down, making it almost impossible to see anything out there.

"It's a van. Oh, and yes. It is. Could you open the gate?"

"Lady, you're with Doctor Grayson? 'Cus I haven't seen you before and I've been working here for two years now."

"Oh, I'm new.", she assured, still smiling at him.

She had such a pretty smile.

"Alright, I'm gonna let you in. This time. But whatever you need for G, go grab it fast. Oh, and the director is gonna kill me of you leave a light on, so be sure to leave the labs as you found 'em."

She nodded. Just now, the guard could smell her perfume. She had the scent of fresh flowers. Which, he did not know, but he had never been good with plants.

He turned around to open the gate for her, but he only made it two steps far.

Then, he felt a sting at the back of his neck. He turned his head.

"What the…"

She stood there, still with that sweet, innocent, almost angelic smile on her face, a syringe in her hand.

He wanted to say something, but his throat felt tight… knotted. Pain exploded in his neck, spreading over to his shoulders. He fell down, behind his desk, shaking and trembling, screaming with no sound coming out than suffocated gurgling. His eyes widened, then his view blurred… everything went black.


	2. Wet Cat

Night had fallen over the city of Gotham. Its skyline, the lights of the skyscrapers, the windows and the advertisement monitors, were like a beacon in the night, almost glaring.

But Selina liked the city much more that way. Not only did the dark bring out the contrasting brightness of the city's lights, in some sense, the dark also cloaked the grey facades, the old and ugly buildings from another century, hiding every little sick, neglected and dull-lookinhg part of the city.

She liked it that way because it made everything she hated about Gotham disappear. Not to her, though, for she could see in the dark, but in a metaphoric way.

Maybe it was the night she preferred to the day because that was the time she could be herself, not pretending to be someone else.

It didn't really matter, but however, she kept thinking about it. About this, and about other things. She had become that kind of person since the last two years. Since the day the Batman died. The day Bruce Wayne died.

She let out that thought by sighing. Then, she concentrated. This was not the kind of situation where she had the time for those thoughts.

Selina Kyle sat crouched on the edge of a roof - the roof of the futuristic building of Carlisle Biochemicals, rain running down her body, drenching her completely, her ginger hair was already hanging down in loose, wet strands. She was grateful for her attire - the skintight, black bodysuit was like a second skin, so nothing that could become soaked by rain - and therefore, heavy like normal cloth. Plus, the material it consisted of was completely waterproof. Her skin underneath the suit was completely dry, and she was more than grateful for that. She hated being wet. Maybe, in an ironic sense, that was because of her thief pseudonym, "Catwoman".

She grinned. She liked that thought. But she was not here for thoughts. She was here for actions.

The red-haired thief lowered her goggles, attaching it to the mask she wore over her eyes.

She waited there for another second, until her eyes had adapted to seeing in night vision, then she grabbed the climbing tool from her belt.

The little device consisted of a grappling hook in the top, attached to a metal disc in which the thin, but nearly indestructible rope was rolled up. Attaching the hook to the edge of the roof, she attached the rope to her belt, quick and professional. She used to check the rope by tearing at it before every climb, but she didn't do that anymore. Now, she had all the confidence she needed to use the "ropewheel" as she called it, whenever she needed.

With a little move forward, she let herself off the side of the building, feeling the rope tearing at her belt now that she was hanging freely. It made her smile. She really enjoyed what she was doing and even the more than terrible weather couldn't change that.

Selina started to climb down, with the only noise she made - the ropewheel's whirring as more and more of the rope unwided out of the metal disc - cloaked by the rain.

She lowered herself, crossing a window, than another one. Until she stopped, in front of the third giantic panorama window that all together seemed to make up the complete building.

With absolute precision, she grabbed the knife from her belt.

To be honest, it was not a knife. It was a precise glass-cutting tool, state of the art and expensive too. But for her, it was just a knife, a knife which she used to cut a circular hole in the glass.

When she was finished, in front of her, there was a hole whose diameter made it too small for a person to get through - a child, maybe, but not a person.

But Selina Kyle made no mistakes. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she knew which holes she could squeeze herself through leaving a hole that would cause the police more questions than answers when it came to the question of how the thief got in. She knew that. She anticipated it. That's why she made the hole in the glass so small.

First, she put her legs through, the followed her belly. She grabbed hold of the glass, spread her legs, ensuring she wouldn't fall backwards. Then, she loosened the rope and slid through the hole, landing inside the building softly on her feet, with a grin.

Once again, she had done it.

But she didn't rest. Not now. Forst, she inspected her surroundings. It was an office, belonging to a high-level scientist here, held in a futuristic, sci-fi, scientific style. There were shelves with books and folders, but she guessed those were just for show.

The whole furniture must have cost a fortune.

She'd bet that the modern metal desk alone was more expensive than a small car, but that was just a wild guess. And she wasn't here for the desk. It wouldn't have for through the hole in the window anyway.

No, what she was here for lay behind the big Image in the wall. It showed some kind of computer art science model, but her biochemical knowledge was not developed enough to decide whether those were atoms, neutrons, bacteria or random shapes.

She approached the image without making a noise. Her footsteps were completely silent.

Kyle's fingers reached out, taking the image down from that wall.

"Safe behind the image.", she whispered, "Guess that one never gets old."

She didn't even hesitate. Her fingers almost flew over the panel, inserting the code. The Safe opened with a beep.

"Careful."

She turned around, jumping in shock. She wasn't used to someone sneaking up on her like that, not since Batman was dead. A thought that

"You're dripping all over the floor."

It was a female, soft voice, coming from the halfway open door. A woman stood there, with bright red hair, dressed in a dark coat, black pants and boots. Her eyes were green, almost glowing. Her face's shapes were dainty, almost fragile… Innocent and young. She smiled. She did not look like the kind of person to sneak up on her during a heist. Usually, it were the bad guys doing this… or Batman. Batman always appeared behind everyone. Selina Kyle sighed. Her thoughts were drifting off again. Why were they drifting off again? Why…

Her thoughts were interrupted all of a sudden by something smashing in her face.

Next thing she knew, the crimson-haired woman was standing in front of her, raising her fist for another punch - but this time, Selina was faster. She took one fast step forward, slamming her shoulder into her assailant. The woman stumbled backwards.

Kyle realized that she had the physical advantage. The woman, more like, the girl, had probably worked overtime. She had seen her, and she had thought she could knock her, that thief, out. Poor girl. But Selina was not in the mood for being nice. Since… actually, since Batman was gone… since then, her mood wasn't the best anymore. She couldn't explain it, but her thoughts often drifted away, made it impossible for her to concentrate. On her work, for example. And these short moments in which she was unconcentrated had proven to be extremely dangerous. She made mistakes. Overlooked things she'd normally have noticed.

As a thief, she couldn't allow herself to ponder. She had to focus. But… she somehow couldn't. She couldn't explain it though. What was it about Batman, about Bruce Wayne, that had made her so unconcentrated, now that he was gone?

The fist of the woman hit her right in the face, harder than Selina thought she'd be capable of. Stil, it hurt, and it pushed her back. Selina fell, landed with her back on the desk, her body slamming into the computer on that desk, shoving the PC from the table. It crashed on the floor. The woman looked at Kyle, who moved slowly, and in pain, her green eyes not giving any more clue to what she was thinking than her facial expression. The pretty smile was gone. Her face was just cold. Neutral, but in an unsettling way.

She moved her body. The woman ignored Catwoman, instead she headed for the safe and grabbed something from it. It was outside of Kyle's field of view. She tried to turn her head enough to get a glimpse of the woman… but the crimson-haired intruder appeared just in front of her from the side of her view.

"What? I have not taken your petty little figurine. Money does not interest me, neither does art." The woman shrugged, and as Selina tried to get up from the table, another face punch hit her chest, making Kyle wince in agony. "You can just walk out of here, Cat.", she continued, "I mean, you could." Her slender fingers grabbed the glass cutter from her belt. "If it weren't for toys like these. Where'd you get those, hm?"

Kyle kept her mouth shut, but Green Eyes just smiled.

"Wayne Enterprises. You've got the Batman in you, thief. Which makes you… not an ordinary thief. Say, did you steal them?" She didn't need a response from Catwoman to know. "You did not. They built those for you. Probably also the rope. So, you're Gotham's part-time protector now that the Bat is nothing but nuclear waste."

Selina grabbed her hand, turned it around. The woman yelled in pain, smacking her with the other hand in the face, which loosened the gripe Kyle had on her hand.

"They probably don't know. About this thieving of yours.", guessed Green Eyes, "I mean, it's not like Gotham needed another Batman. There's just… not enough like Joker or Bane running around that would require otherwise." Another grin came across her face. "But you know what. That might change tonight."


	3. Beaten

Waking up was the hardest part. Forcing herself out of the dark and into the light. Into that light. She didn't. She didn't want to wake up. Not yet. The darkness of unconsciousness was… soothing.

Someone grabbed her arms, pulled her up to her feet. That was what woke her, too.

She blinked. It was so bright. She must have been out for hours. As she became less and less sleepy, she realized where she was. In front of the building she tried to steal something out of the night before. On the parking lot. Now that the storm was over, it was sunny, not one cloud to be seen. A pretty, normal morning. Just that now, there were lots and lots of police cars. She raised her head, noticing that it were two police officers that were dragging her along, one on each side of her, grabbing one arm each.

She tried to shake her arms, but the police officers held her tight. They were heading towards a police car that was parked near the guardhouse, on the street side of the gate.

"Where are we headed?", Selina mumbled, still feeling a little dizzy.

One of the cops, a tall, blonde guy with a grim expression on his face, glanced at her.

"Holding cells."

"You're kidding."

"You were found inside one of the head scientist's office. BNE is a crime, lady."

She looked down at herself. She still wore her tight suit. But her tools from her belt were gone.

"Safe opened.", the officer continued, "Plus, the safe is missing important files."

"Files, huh?" Selina smirked. "Go ahead, search me. I mean, there are enough spots in my clothing to hide files, as you can see. Lots and lots of bags…"

The officer strengthened his grip around her arm. Obviously he was not the guy who liked sarcasm. Or being proven wrong.

"Come on, I have a point."

Her mask and goggles were gone too. If there weren't so many police officers at the scene, she'd have knocked the two cops out already. But Not like this.

"We're are there so many of you, anyways? Just for breaking and entering? I consider myself honored."

"Murder.", mumbled the blonde officer.

"I… didn't see that coming.", she admitted. "But that wasn't me. There was someone else. Some girl."

They ignored her. They Just ignored her. She hated it. She hated not having control over the situation. She hated it.

The two officers reached the car. One opened the back door, another one shoved her on the back seat and cuffed her hands. Then, they closed the door on her and got in the car.

"You're not gonna let me forget this, will you?", Selina asked as she followed John Blake out of the precinct.

"Probably not." The black-haired ex-detective grinned a boyish grin. "But it's kind of a big thing. Getting you out."

"How did you, though?" Kyle had changed her bodysuit for casual clothing during the last three days she spent in the holding cells. "I mean, they were right about the breaking and entering part."

They headed down the stairs in front of the GCPD, towards a car parked there. A blue Dodge. It belonged to Blake.

"I too have my contacts. Plus, you were right about not having stolen stuff. If you did, though… might have been more difficult."

Selina sighed in relief. She hated not being in control, but now, Blake had given her that control back. She carried a bag in which she'd stuffed her thief outfit. Still, the mask, the goggles and her equipment was lost. And there was no way Lucius Fox would replace it with.

That hurt. But it wasn't about losing her stuff - what troubled her the most was the bitter realization that she lost. She hated it. Especially because the crimson-haired girl was so obviously weaker than her, so physically disadvantaged that she had only won because Selina didn't have her thoughts together. That was what troubled Kyle.

She entered Blake's car, sat on the co-driver's seat.

"So, what exactly did she stole, anyway?"

"She?", the ex-cop asked her, starting the engine.

"Crimson hair. Dyed red. Bright green eyes. Pretty girl. About twenty years old? Please, don't tell me you haven't even got trace of her being there."

"I do not work for the GCPD anymore, as you know…"

"But you know things. You know things that normal civilians don't. You still have your interns."

"Listen. We… The GCPD is looking for missing bio-samples. Some project the doctor you intended to steal from worked on."

"And Green Eyes took it. Those samples. Not files, as the officers told me. So, yeah, the samples. Why would she steal them? I know things too. Not GCPD-related things, but I know the underworld of Gotham. I know some contract thieves and spies. I know the kind of guys the rival chemical companies would hire to steal information. What I'm saying is… she was none of them. She wasn't dressed like them. She was too casual. And, what was that about murder?"

"A guard was killed." Blake informed her, turning his car into a crossing street. "Seemingly neurotoxin. Why do you care?"

"Neurotoxin?", Selina echoed.

Blake nodded, thinking for a moment, then explained:"I think it was some kind of tropical floral poison, via a syringe to the neck. But again: why do you care?"

"Because…" Selina stopped, leaned to the side window. "Just curious. Have always been."

"Guess that's what you are telling yourself. Maybe it's the fact that that crimson-haired girl beat you."

"Listen." Selina's voice turned cold. "I do not have hurt pride because I got knocked over the head. That happens in my business."

"I think, that's just it." He shrugged a little and looked at her for a second, then back on the street. "I think you're not good at accepting that someone beat you - and I mean beat in both ways."

"Pull over. Let me out, I'll walk the rest."

He didn't. Of course he didn't.

"It's not bad admitting that. I mean, remember Batman? Or, since we both know it: Bruce? How he always kept on about you're more than you think you are?"

She sighed, turned her body towards him on her seat.

"I do. What about it?"

"Well, Bruce thought this. So so I. I don't think you're that tough. And I think… hey, it's okay. We're all vulnerable. Not that we talked much the last two years, we're not exactly friends, but… I know you. Because of Bane. Because of everything. All I'm saying is… don't be afraid of doing the right thing, of admitting what we both know is true."

He stopped his car on the side of the street, next to the sidewalk.

She looked at him, looked him in the eyes. Took her time, then responded.

"Maybe "right" isn't as clear as you think it is. Maybe you don't know me as well as you think. You said it yourself. We are no friends. Thanks for getting me out. But that's all. I have my business. You do… whatever it is you're doing."

She loosened her seatbelt and opened the door.

He didn't stop her from doing so.

"Deep down you know it, Kyle. I know you know it."

"Well, then you're wrong."

"Then why help us against Bane? If I didn't know you, if I didn't care, why get you out?"

With that, he leaned over the middle console, grabbed the door and closed it. Then, He drove off.


	4. Greenhouse

The tiny greenhouse was far beyond its good days. The building was like a dirt stain at the edge of Gotham's newer and more optically pleasing buildings, consisting of just two rooms - the actual greenhouse and a small, secluded bureau in the back. It had once belonged to a pharmaceutical company, but had been closed during the seventies, and had since then been waiting for someone in the mayor's office finally signing the documents to tear the place down.

Not any more, though. The place had been bought. A landlord, who wanted to build on the grounds. Affordable housing, officially.

Inside, the plants had overgrown the whole place, until under the roof.

The plants were of different kinds. Some had bright petals, glowing in different colors, some thorny. Some had big leaves, some smaller, but more of them. Still, the plants had turned the greenhouse in a literal jungle. And it was hot in here, the Air almost tropical. It was hard to breathe.

Especially for the two mercenaries that were assigned with the boring job of patrolling around the little greenhouse. Both of them wore dark grey clothes, military style but without badges, armed with submachine guns hanging around their necks with the weapon's straps. They were both sweating

It was early evening, and not in the summer, still, inside here, the warm air was almost unbearable.

"It's like we're back in Guatemala. Just without the drugs."

The other mercenary raised an eyebrow, hinting at the plants.

"Ah? And what are those, then?"

"I ain't the one with the insides here. That's her doing."

His partner looked over to the bureau. The blinds inside the windows were all shut.

"As long as she pays."

"Where does she even get the money, anyway? I mean… we are professionals. She ain't some CEO…"

The first merc spit to his side, into one of the flower beds.

"Bah, cut the crap. You don't get to question her. She pays, we deliver. Like you said, we're professionals."

"That", the high, feminine voice announced, "is irritatingly loyal for men in your line of work."

The mercenaries quickly turned to their left, where the voice came from. Their crimson-haired contractee sat on the side of one of the flower pots, hidden behind some large green, dry leaves until now. One arm laid on one of the leaves, she seemed to pat the plant. Brush her fingers over the leaf. She smiled at the mercenaries in her usual, innocent fashion. As if nothing could get to her. Wearing dark, fitting jeans and a plain t-shirt she'd never looked more casual before. Still… her green eyes were kind of creepy, undeniably.

"Ma'am?", the first mercenary asked.

"You we're right, though. No drugs." She looked at the leaf in her hand. "We are not after something that trivial. What is money anyway."

"Money…", the merc grinned, "Ist what keeps us here."

She slid off the flower box, took a step towards the two soldiers.

"And that is why you two are here guarding a greenhouse." She stopped in front of the two men. She had to look up a bit. She was smaller than them. "I do not trust you for a reason."

The two looked at her silently. They didn't trust her either. When she wasn't around, the mercenaries - who she had hired to keep whatever she was doing her a secret - always joked about her. About the way she talked and moved. About her "plant fetish" as the soldiers sometimes called it. Sometimes, they made sexual double entendre. But only, when she wasn't listening. They were grown men, trained and hardened by war, and she was a woman of rather petite shape… but still, there was something about her they feared.

"Ma'am." One mercenary broke the silence. "We are reliable soldiers, but maybe you wanna tell us what exactly it is you want from us."

She seemed to ponder about that for a moment… then looked at the mercenary who said that - it was the younger of the two - directly.

"You want intel."

"I want to redefine my contract.", he clarified, "I don't speak for all of us, but personally, I wanna know why you're paying guys like us to stroll around an abandoned greenhouse all day long."

There. Her smile was back on her face. That perfect Smile on that pretty face.

"Good question.", she admitted, "Actually, very good question. I did not hire you because you served in a jungle, so no, Not because of your experience with this climate." She smirked for a second. "But you had another question. So, where does she get the money from?" She reached out with her finger, tapped the younger soldier on the chest. "The answer is, you're going to get it for me. Or for yourselves, to be precise." With a quiet laugh, she added:"From the Bank of Gotham."


	5. Alfred

Right after Selina Kyle got out of his car, ex police detective John Blake - Robin John Blake in his full name, drove up the street to Wayne Manor, once home to Bruce Wayne, now an orphanage, as was Wayne's last will.

For Blake, this just fitted Wayne's character, the person he was. So did the fact that he, having no heir, gave what he had to Alfred, his butler.

Blake had been seeing Alfred more often since the last two years. The old man would invite him in, and he would make tea, sometimes snacks, something he baked, cake, or pie. They would sit together, and Alfred would tell the younger man stories.

That way, Blake had learnt a lot about the manor and the land around it. About Bruce' parents, about his childhood - but also more about the Butler himself, and not to forget - about the Batman. It was after a couple of those meetings Blake realized he'd barely even known this man - neither as Bruce Wayne nor as Batman.

And the Batcave, of course. That's what Alfred called the large structures underneath the house, with Batman's equipment, the computers and also with the last of the vigilante's remaining vehicles: the Batbike.

Blake enjoyed coming there, even if it always made him a bit gloomy. Alfred didn't seem so affected, which Blake found strange since Wayne and his butler were so close. Maybe the old man had already dealt with more losses than him. Maybe he could cope with such things better. Maybe it was just the fact that he wasn't as young as Blake anymore.

But Alfred did never mourn. He talked about the past in a serious tone, but without sounding as if he'd lost his master - and friend - for decades. Blake did not fully understand how Alfred could stay so calm about this, but that just raised his respect for the calm, wise man Alfred was.

Blake parked his car next to the road a little before he reached the manor. He went the rest on foot, and he didn't head up to the manor itself, but entered the cave.

He watched the technical consoles elevate out of the ground, he brushed his hand over the cool, but not cold, metal of the technology built inside the Batcave. The computers activated themselves, the AI voice greeting him. It even called him with his name now - Robin, to be exact - whereas in the beginning, the Batcomputer had just gone with "Master Bruce" until Alfred changed that some months ago. Blake had found it irritating at first, how "intelligent" the computer was, how naturally it could respond to what he was saying. It was nothing like a real conversation, of course, but still, compared to civil home assistants or computer AIs, the Batcomputer was years ahead.

Blake didn't know, what exactly he was doing here. He came here often, but never with a real purpose. Most times, he just sat down, thinking, letting his thoughts wander off, just pondering for an hour or two before leaving again. Sometimes, he browsed through the features of the Batcomputer, exploring what it could actually do, and what not, but by now, he knew everything by heart.

So, he just sat down on the chair in front of the Batcomputer, looking at all those monitors, not as excited about all this like he was in the beginning, but still with a lot of respect for the high-end technology in front of him.

"You didn't tell me you were coming. I'd have made you a cup of tea."

The voice of the butler was calm as ever, and not loud, but still, it startled Blake in his seat.

"I'm sorry. I think I forgot."

"Not a problem." Alfred, who has appeared on the other side of the Batcave, maybe from the entry that led in the manor, walked over to the younger man. "You seem to have made yourself at home."

"Is that a problem?"

"Not at all.", Alfred replied, sitting down on another chair, next to Blake. "You know, I think Master Bruce would have wanted you to become his successor. Under different circumstances, since Gotham has proven the ability to change. The city did not lose the Batman… the Batman left, and Gotham grew to become a city that did not need him."

"Probably. There is still crime…"

"Young Mister Blake." Alfred inhaled deeply. "For two years, there were no criminals like Bane, Scarecrow or Joker. People still get mugged, murder still happens. But there is nothing implying this city's need for another Batman. And you should be grateful for that." The old man sighed quietly. "Considering where it got Master Bruce."

Blake nodded.

"Still, I consulted with Lucius Fox.", he then admitted, "About the 'what if' of that whole thing."

"About what exactly?"

"I just… Made some designs. Asked Fox about it."

"Designs?", the butler echoed, "What designs?"

"Truth be told, the Batman is dead for this city. He died as a hero, a symbol. I wanna be prepared, but if this city needs another… symbol… it's not gonna be a Batman."

"Then what? What is it you thought about?"

Blake remained silent for a second, just thinking a little, then shrugged.

"I am still thinking about this, but… what do you think about Nightwing?"

Robbing a bank was not was ist used to be anymore. In earlier days, you'd just kick some doors, rush in, guns blazing. The bank accountants would hand over the cash, and then you'd get the hell out of there, hoping not to be caught by police.

But now, it was different.

Lilian had explained it, long and carefully to the band of mercenaries she'd hired.

Their leader, Diego "Capitano" Alvarez, had just listened with one ear. The Latino man had enough experience, he didn't need consultation about how to pull that off from some girl who was barely over twenty years old. The man had fought in different wars, on different sides, for years. His mercenaries were all hardened soldiers, with years of combat experience. If Lilian told them to rob a bank with the spoils being their payment, Alvarez was okay with that. But what he wasn't okay with was with being lectured by his young employee. She looked like she was just doing her studies, like some rich and well-educated daughter of some rich guy, with loads of money and zero experience in the business.

Plus, her plants. After she'd stolen the bio-sample from Carlisle Biochemicals, her plants had grown extremely fast, and had developed multiple features and characteristics that were unnatural to them - or they'd been developing much too fast. Whatever Lilian had done to the plants, it sure was some messed up stuff.

And the fact that she wasn't telling a thing to mercenaries did not help at all.

Alvarez released his thoughts with a sigh, then opened the door of the car he sat in. It was parked opposite of the bank. Apart from him, there were three mercs now getting out of the car, all in dark grey or black attire, armed with submachine guns. Alvarez nodded, and the mercenaries simultaneously pulled up their black cloth masks. They were professionals. They sure didn't need that girl to make plans on how to rob this bank. Diego "Capitano" Alvarez crossed the street. By now, two of his other soldiers had eliminated the security system. Capitano did not doubt that.

Reaching the door, he opened it, and stepped into the bank. Time to make some cash.


End file.
